


'Damsel' In Distress

by Pixiemage



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Based on the Au and Art created by, Damsel In Distress Yuri, Damsel With An Attitude, Disney, First Meetings, Hero Otabek, Lumorie, M/M, Otabek Rescues Yuri, hercules au, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 02:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11326845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixiemage/pseuds/Pixiemage
Summary: Otabek and his Hero Trainer, Yakov, are headed to the City of Thebes to begin his path to becoming a "True Hero" – only to be sidetracked by a scream from somewhere below. In the hopes that he could save a Damsel In Distress and get some proper hero training in, Otabek dives into the fray...only to find that the so-called 'damsel' doesn't really want his saving.A little oneshot based on the YOI Hercules!AU created by the wonderful artist Lumorie on Tumblr. Go check them out!http://lumorie.tumblr.com/





	'Damsel' In Distress

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my best friend Snaps, without whom I would never would have known about Yuri On Ice and would never have been inspired to write this lovely little piece. Thanks friendo! <3
> 
> All art added in this fic were created by Lumorie on Tumblr.

Finally! This was what Otabek had been training for! Saving people, becoming a hero...then he would be able to go home, to his _real_ home. Mount Olympus. Yakov had been a little hesitant to let him go just yet, but with the quiet promise from Otabek that he wouldn’t be too careless, the hot headed satyr had begrudgingly agreed to a test run. So now, seated on the back of his pegasus Makkachin, the three of them were on their way to the City of Thebes.

Makkachin spiralled to the right and Otabek held on just a little tighter, a fond smile on his lips. A pegasus. Really. For all the stories and legends surrounding the great lightning god, it was only after meeting him that Otabek had discovered just how extravagant his father Victor could be with his gifts.

 

_“I wanted to get you your own little chariot for Makkachin to pull you around in too, but your father wouldn’t let me. Yuuri said it would be too much. But I am so glad he let me give Makkachin to you! He’s a wonderful horse, and so friendly…”_

 

And Otabek couldn’t help but agree with his other father’s assessment. Babies and flying chariots might not be the best combination, especially with a fledgling pegasus pulling it. As though to accompany this thought Makkachin pulled left to skirt a cloud and Otabek smiled softly at the rush of wind in his hair, the cool air against his face. No, a fledgling pegasus would have been anything but graceful...but the same certainly couldn’t be said for Makkachin as he was right now.

“So what’s in Thebes?” Otabek asked, his thoughts drawn back to the reason they were flying in the first place.

“A lot of problems,” Yakov muttered. “It’s a big, tough town. As I see it, it’s a good place for you to start building a reputation.”

It sounded like Thebes drew more trouble than it was worth...which, Otabek supposed, was why it was a good starting point for his “Hero Debut”.

An ear-splitting, feminine scream tore through the air and all three of them jumped, Makkachin stuttering mid-air and jostling the passengers on his back. Otabek looked around wildly below them, trying to see through the clouds. He couldn’t see anything...perhaps if he got closer…

“It sounds like your usual D.I.D.,” Yakov said, looking back to his student. “A Damsel In Distre–”

The old satyr’s words cut off and turned into an extended shout as Otabek kicked against Makkachin’s sides, steering the pegasus into a nosedive. He could hear Yakov yelling at him over the rush of wind in his ears, but he could worry about that later...somebody was in trouble, and he could do something. This was exactly what he had been training for, right? This could be his first chance to save somebody for real.

“BOY! SLOW DOWN!”

It wasn’t until they were very, very close to the ground that Otabek urged Makkachin to pull up, stopping short right before they would have crashed through the greenery lining the river they had seen from above. It was a move only an expert could have pulled off; Otabek, it seemed, was a natural driver. Yakov was still muttering his disgruntlement and frustrations while his protege slid off Makkachin’s back, approaching the line of trees and bushes along the riverbank, trying to find the source of the scream. It had been a woman, he was certain of that at the very least. No man could possibly scream that high and a child probably wouldn’t have the lung power to scream that loud. He heard movement in the water from beyond the foliage and pushed a few branches aside, soon joined by both Makkachin and Yakov. All three looked on as somebody in a white tunic stumbled out toward the middle of the river. Was she the one who had screamed? Otabek couldn’t make out her facial features from this far away, but he could see that she was rather small and nimble, her blonde hair tied up into a ponytail and her - rather short - tunic fastened at her left shoulder. Her build suggested that maybe she was a younger lady...in her teens, perhaps? Otabek wasn’t close enough to be able to tell. She fell with a splash before scrambling up again in an attempt to escape something out of sight. That ‘something’ didn’t stay out of sight for very long, and mere moments after the Damsel In Distress started to flee again, two very tall female centaurs came galloping around the corner.

“Where are you going, Yuri?” the redheaded one spoke up, easily taking hold of ‘Yuri’ and lifting her out of the water. “We’re not done playing yet!”

“Oh! I know! Why don’t we try putting a little flower crown on you?” the second centaur, a brunette, trilled. “You’d look absolutely _adorable!”_

Yuri let out a snarl of rage and swatted furiously at the crown of pink and white flowers that the second centaur was trying to don her in, but this only brought about a round of adoring giggles from the centaurs.

“Awww, how precious!” the first centaur squealed in delight. “You’re like a little angry kitten!”

Otabek gritted his teeth and his grip on the branch he was holding tightened. This was ridiculous and degrading, and it was obvious that ‘Yuri’ wanted nothing to do with any of this. Couldn’t they see that?

“Now remember, boy,” Yakov was saying in an undertone, trying to continue his training of the rookie hero. “First, analyze the situation. Don’t just go barreling in without thinking. I’ve lost too many heroes beca–”

But Otabek heard none of it. He was already striding across the river to face the pair of twittering women, both of whom were now cooing over their living dress-up doll. He ignored Yakov’s irritated shout of “He’s losing points for this!” and set his angered sights on the centaurs.

“Can’t you just imagine Yuri with a pair of kitty ears and claws?”

“Ooo! Like a darling little tiger cub!”

“Excuse me.” Otabek spoke, as he always did, with a smooth and level voice. It wasn’t often he raised his voice for anything, and even stepping into the role of Hero, that probably wouldn't change. Even without shouting, his words drew the attention of the centaurs, who looked away from Yuri to lock their gazes on him instead. Yuri was facing away from him but even without seeing her face Otabek could tell she had heard him by the way her head jolted slightly in surprise. The centaur holding Yuri clutched her hands closer to her chest while the other planted her fists on her hips.

“Back off, two-legs,” the first said with some sass to her words. “We’re playing with our new toy.”  
  
“Go find your own plaything.”

“Pardon me, ladies.” Otabek spoke boldly, hoping he could end this verbally rather than relying on physical force. “But nobody should be referred to as a ‘toy’. I’ll have to ask you to release that young la–”

 

“Piss off, moron! I’ve got this.”

 

The words, much to Otabek’s surprise, came from Yuri, who had finally turned as best as possible in the centaur’s grasp to face him...and it was only then that the hero realized something he hadn’t before. Yuri was...a boy. A young man in his late teens, and a rather gracefully built one at that, but...oh. _Oh._ Yuri’s facial features were still softer, more youthful, but the look in his bright eyes was one that alluded to him seeming older than he really was. It was the eyes that drew his attention. He found himself lost, for a moment, caught in Yuri’s determined and defiant gaze, caught wondering just what kind of person was hidden behind those eyes – before he was finally able to finish his sentence.

“...gentleman.” Otabek cleared his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly while Yuri continued to try and struggle out of the centaur’s iron grip. “But – you – aren’t you...a damsel in distress?” He felt a little silly asking, but that had been his assumption when walking into this scene. Yuri paused for a moment in his struggles to roll his eyes at his would-be-hero.

“I’m a ‘damsel’ –  _ngah!”_ He tried, again, to tug himself free. “I’m in distress – _mmph_ – I can _handle_ this.” Another moment where he stopped struggling to look back at Otabek, this time flashing his a rather cheeky and snide grin. “Have a nice day!” The comment was dripping heavily with sarcasm, and while it left Otabek blinking at the younger man with a dumbfounded look on his face and his jaw hanging open, the two centaurs let out near-identical squeals of delight.

“He’s so adorable when he’s angry!” Yuri’s captor drew him into a tight hug against her chest and he yelped in outrage.

“GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF ME YOU HORSE HAG!!!”

It was only now that Otabek started to realize that, perhaps, that scream he had heard hadn’t been a scream of fear at all, and had most likely come from one of the women, getting a little too excited over their new pet. And the fact that Yuri seemed to believe that he had everything under control? Honestly…

 

The whole thing was ridiculous, really.

 

Otabek cleared his throat and put a hand to the hilt of his sword, beginning to draw it as a precautionary measure.

“Sir,” he addressed Yuri clearly, his eyes lingering a little too long on the young man. “I believe you may be too close to this situation to reali–”

Taking his eyes off of the women for too long was his undoing. Before he even knew what was happening, the second centaur had turned away from him and kicked him clear across the waterway with her hind legs. He was left spluttering and coughing up water when he resurfaced.

“We said to leave, jerk! This catch is ours!” she called after him as he shook his head rapidly to get his wet hair out of his eyes. The conniving little giggle that accompanied her words sent a shiver down his spine.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Yakov’s voice drew his attention from the shore. “боги мои...GET YOUR SWORD!”

“Right, right…” Otabek muttered rapidly. Sword...sword...his hands flitted about beneath the water, trying to find his weapon, and he was more than aware of the two laughing centaurs who were slowly advancing on him. Where was it? “Rule number fifteen,” he said under his breath, working to keep himself calm and focussed as he struggled with his search. _‘Rule number fifteen, a hero is only as good as his – weapon!’_

His hands found something smooth as he said this, and hoping to the gods he had found his sword’s handle, he spun on the spot to face the pair of advancing centaurs wielding his weapon. His weapon, which...as it turned out...was not his sword. It was a fish. A _fish_. The women laughed mockingly and Yuri’s obvious expression of “Are you freaking kidding me?” was palpable. He rolled his eyes and dropped his chin into his hand, giving in to his captivity for the moment, not even batting an eye as his captors both drew back matching fists and drove them straight upward under Otabek’s jaw. For the second time in several minutes the would-be hero was sent flying, brought to a sudden and painful stop by his face colliding with a large boulder.

Makkachin reared his head and let out an angry whinny, scraping his hoof against the ground and unfurling his wings, ready to go fight for his rider – but Yakov leapt in front of him, holding him back.

“Woah, woah woah woah, hold on! No, no, we can’t interfere!” he shook his head rapidly. He cast a backward glance toward his pupil and the smallest flicker of concern settled in his eyes. “He has to learn to do it on his own.”

Otabek slowly dragged himself out of the water, clinging to the boulder and waiting for the world to stop spinning. Those girls were a lot stronger than he had given them credit for...for all their beauty and deceptively sweet demeanors, they were far from angels. Distantly, he registered Yakov’s voice calling out to him.

“Come on, boy, get up! Concentrate! You’re better than this!”

Makkachin let out a supportive sound and Otabek dragged himself upright, coughing a few times as he turned to face the giggling centaurs again. Yuri was biting out insult after insult, even going so far as to grip his captor’s long hair and yanking, hard. She gasped and tugged him away, holding him just out of reach.

“You’re a bad little kitty, aren’t you?” she simpered. “That wasn’t very nice, kitten.”

“I’m not a damn kitten! Don’t _call_ me that name!” Yuri screamed the words and fought even harder to escape her hold. His hands flew out toward her as though he was planning on clawing out her eyes. Otabek gritted his teeth in anger at how Yuri was being treated. Then, suddenly inspired, he grinned when an idea came to mind. His sword wasn’t anywhere in reach but he didn’t need his weapon to make an impact. He could take advantage of his own godly strength. Despite the fact that he didn’t want to hurt either of the women, they had ill intentions toward Yuri. This fight only had to go far enough for him to stop them. He started into a run, picking up speed as he neared the trio across the water, and just before he reached them he flung his arms out to the side to clothesline the pair of women. They went flying into the distant waterfall in his show of strength.

“Yes! Wonderful!” Yakov shouted and nodded from his spot on the shore, showing the smallest bit of pride for the boy he’d slowly taken a liking to. The satyr had thought he was done with heroes...but perhaps this one...this one wasn’t so bad. This time, things could be different. “You need to work on your execution, and losing your weapon is far from ideal, but...all in all, not too bad.”

Otabek nodded. A determined glint appeared in his eyes. He could do better next time.

A loud gasp, splash, and splutter from nearby snapped hit attention downward. It seemed as though, just as he had been hoping, Yuri had been dropped by the centaur - straight down into the water. And now the very damp young man was sitting up with his dripping hair covering his face.

 

Oh. Oops.

 

It was with cautious hands and a gentle-yet-barely-there smile that Otabek knelt down to lift the ‘Damsel’ from the river. For once in his life he was very aware of his own strength and did everything he could not to be too rough with the younger boy he had just tried to save. Yuri was coughing, trying to clear his lungs of water, not even fighting it when he was lifted easily out of the river. In fact, for the briefest of moments, he leaned against Otabek’s chest for support before he was set carefully on a boulder jutting out of the water near the shoreline.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Otabek murmured, his voice low and even as ever, tone soft. Yuri let out a groan. “That was dumb.”

Having finally caught his breath, Yuri dragged both hands upward over his face to pull his hair back off his forehead, and the look on his face was the most blatant use of “Duh, ya think?” that Otabek had ever seen.

“Uh, _yeah_.” The sarcastic comment was accompanied by another of those snide smiles Otabek was beginning to associate with the young man. Somehow...the look fit him. A softer, more genuine smile might seem out of place on such an impish and brash personality. 

 

There was a sound of splashing water and shrieking in the distance. Yuri leaned to look past Otabek, who spun on the spot to see what was happening. Both centaurs were still conscious and - now - absolutely furious.

“How DARE you try to take our kitten away from us!” the redhead shrieked, eyes blazing.

“Give us back our pet!” The brunette this time. Her tail swished in anger through the air behind her. Then, in perfect unison, they kicked up their hooves and took off toward Otabek like twin bats out of hell.

Otabek suddenly decided he had never seen two ladies - horses? - look more intimidating. These women were absolutely insane. The look in their eyes was downright murderous and feral; somehow he had a feeling this sudden animalistic attitude had nothing to do with the fact that they were half horse. And they were still after Yuri, and - now - after Otabek’s head.

But he was a hero. If he was going to be a real one, he would have to get used to this, wouldn’t he? And there was no doubt in his mind that he could win this fight.

“Excuse me,” Otabek offered Yuri a small salute before charging back into battle. He didn’t want to hurt them, he really didn’t. As of right now his plan was to try as best he could to either keep them distracted and angry until Yuri could flee and they would give up (wishful thinking), or to keep them running in circles until they wore themselves out. Or knocked themselves out. Whichever came first.  
  
“ _GIVE US BACK OUR KITTEN!”_

The centaurs’ voices had taken on a freakish quality that had Yuri scowling and snarling in protest. They sounded scarily possessive.  


“I’m not your fucking kitten!” he snapped from his perch on the boulder. He didn’t _belong_ to _anyone_. Or...mostly anyone. Fucking JJ…the minute his contract expired–

“Nice work, boy!” a voice cropped up from beside him, and he glanced down to see an old satyr standing there with a serious expression on his face. So he knew that idiot hero, did he? “You have to stay aware of where both your opponents are! Focussing on one isn’t enough, and – are you even listening?!”

“Is wonderboy here for real?” Yuri asked with a raised eyebrow as he wrung water out of his ponytail.

“What are you talking about? Of course he’s real.” the satyr barely spared Yuri a glance, his eyes fixated on his protege. “As real a hero as they come. Or so I’m hoping. He has the potential, but lacks practice and execution.” A pause. “What did you say your name was, boy?”

“I didn’t.”

With an unusual amount of grace, Yuri stood atop the boulder and lept the short distance to the shore, slipping beyond the line of greenery and just out of sight. Yakov snorted and returned his focus to Otabek. Otabek, who seemed to be avoiding any actual fighting, but who seemed to be doing a fairly good job of pissing the centaurs off.

“What in the world are you doing?!” Yakov shouted across the water. “Finish this! You have the strength, so use it!”

Otabek spared a glance towards his coach but didn’t say anything, barely gave him a reaction in return for the word of advice. Nothing. Just a cool, schooled expression and a single blink of his eyes. Yuri, from his vantage point on the shore, snickered a bit. He didn’t know what Otabek was trying to do but whatever it was, it looked as though that satyr he was with might start tearing out his own hair at any second from the “hero’s” antics.

 

Somehow this was hilarious to him.

 

“LET ME HAVE MY TOY!” the brunette centaur shrieked. Her hair had long since fallen out of whatever braid it had been in. Otabek glanced between the pair of girls; an idea formed.

“ _Your_ toy?” he asked with his usual stoic expression. “But wasn’t _she_ the one who caught him? I thought Yuri belonged to her?” He pointed to the redhead.

“What? No! He’s not _hers!”_ the brunette scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. She shot a venomous look at the other girl, who gasped sharply.

“What?! Are you trying to take him all for yourself?” The redhead sounded downright furious at this new turn of events. “How DARE you!”

“How dare _me?_ How dare _you!”_ the brunette retorted, slowly pacing closer and closer to the girl who had, a moment ago, been her ally. “I should have known you just wanted my little angel for yourself!”

“ _Your_ angel?! You selfish _bitch!”_

Otabek barely had time to back out of the way before the redheaded centaur had thrown herself at the other woman. They were shrieking now, voices high-pitched and painful, and Otabek stared in wide-eyed amazement at the catfight that had started up in front of him. This was a far more chaotic reaction than he had been hoping for.

“ _KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF MY KITTEN!”_

“ _BETTER MY HANDS THAN YOURS!”_

The two women continued to fight and bicker, now completely oblivious to the hero that was slowly slipping away from the scene. He left them to their argument and dropped to his knees in the water to try and find his sword. It had to be somewhere around here…this had been where he had lost it, after all... His hands skimmed across the riverbed, eyes peeled for any sort of shine beneath the water’s surface, and it was only a few moments before his fingers brushed against the cool, polished surface of metal. _Finally_. The softest of smiles drifted across his features as he stood and sheathed his weapon. He hadn’t even needed to use it. Not this time. Or at least, not yet–

Otabek rounded on the centaurs again, eyes landing on their fight, checking to see if he needed to intervene – but just as he did so the argument came to a very abrupt end. The redhead had yanked on her friend’s hair rather roughly and brought their foreheads clashing together. It was almost in slow motion that they swayed on the spot, eyes unfocused, legs giving out as they toppled over into the river with a satisfying splash.

 

For a moment there was silence.

 

Then a loud huff broke it and drew Otabek’s attention to his rather annoyed-looking coach.

 

“Otabek…” His tone held a note of scolding. Otabek could already feel a lecture coming on as he waded his way out of the river.

“How was that, Yakov?” he asked, expression cool and collected, tone even. Yakov was beginning to wonder if _anything_ ever phased the boy.

“It was effective, I suppose,” the satyr muttered. He had since found his own way to the shore and was, miraculously, the only dry one of the bunch. Even Makkachin had ventured into the river to splash about a little. It was times like these that Otabek could picture his animal friend as a big puppy instead of a pegasus.

“It certainly got the job done,” Yakov continued. He scowled. “But avoiding the conflict won’t always gain you a win. And losing your sword? You’ve got to be better than that! You can get away with stupid mistakes like those at the minor decathlons. But this is the big leagues!”

Yakov jabbed at the hero’s belt, fastened by the golden pendant he had been gifted by his fathers at birth. The symbol of the lightning god. Of Victor. Otabek’s expression fell a little.

“...but I beat them, didn’t I?” he offered gently.

“You did,” Yakov muttered through gritted teeth. “But you were distracted. Next time don’t let your guard down because some Pretty Boy is playing hard to get…”

 

Otabek’s gaze drifted past Yakov to the river’s edge beyond him, his trainer’s voice fading into the background as he caught sight of the person standing there. Yuri, outlined by the sunlight reflecting off the water, leaning over to wring his hair out...looking up just as Otabek caught sight of him. His breath caught. He didn’t know what was drawing him to the boy he had saved, but there was something about him…something in his eyes… He was all but ignoring Yakov at this point, brushing past the old, irritable satyr to approach Yuri instead. 

 

“It’s like I keep telling you, you need to stay _focussed_ and...you…” Yakov trailed off, glaring at Otabek’s back. Really? But Otabek didn’t notice, nor did he notice when Makkachin pranced up to him looking very excited and happy to see his friend alive and well. He didn’t notice one bit. He stepped up behind Yuri, hands clasped behind his back, expression softer than before.

“Are you alright...Mister…?” The centaurs had said Yuri, right? But was that his real name or…?

“Yuri,” the boy replied sharply. He whipped his head around to raise an eyebrow at Otabek, who had to duck quickly to avoid being hit in the face with water droplets from Yuri’s ponytail. “My friends call me Yurio.” He wrung out one of his shoes with a scowl and turned away from Otabek again. “At least they would, if I had any friends.”

 

The was a certain bite to his words, but an acceptance too. Like he was bitter about what he was saying but had long since come to terms with its factuality. Otabek’s expression wavered and he found himself wanting nothing more than to offer his own friendship, if it would help. He would be more than happy to be Yuri’s friend. But he didn’t say that. He didn’t say anything, because before he could say a word Yuri had chimed in.

“So.” He shoved his shoe at Otabek’s chest. Otabek grabbed it quickly. “Did they give you a name along with all those stupidly oversized muscles?”

Yuri bent over to fasten his other shoe onto his foot, and Otabek was at a loss for words. How was he supposed to respond to that? It was a backhanded compliment, with a bite and attitude that he was still getting used to no matter how well it fit Yuri. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and blinked. Yuri snorted and narrowed his eyes. He straightened and reached for his other shoe, which Otabek automatically handed over.

“Or maybe they gave you too much muscle and not enough brain cells. Did you forget how to talk?”

“Otabek.” Yuri shot him a look clearly laced with some form of ‘Oh look, he _can_ speak!’ before strolling toward a large protruding tree root. Otabek watched him go. “My name is Otabek.”

“Ota...hmph.” Yuri scowled and sat on the root, hitching his leg up to put his second sandal back on. “I think I like ‘Wonderboy’ better. Matches your ridiculous Hero persona.”

Makkachin chose that moment to trot over, nuzzling his head up against Otabek, who was too distracted by Yuri to do much more than lightly push the pegasus away. Makka looked absolutely heartbroken at the lack of affection. He let out a little snort of unhappiness and his wings drooped toward the ground.

“So…” Otabek strolled a little closer to where Yuri was sitting and leaned one shoulder on the tree, his eyes never leaving the blond. “...how did you get mixed up with the…?”

He gestured toward the unconscious centaurs still lying motionless in the river. Yuri rolled his eyes and pretended to puke.

“The annoying, screaming fangirls?” he asked, sounding disgusted. “God, they’re the worst. I’m not adorable, I’m _not_ cute, and I’m NOT their fucking ‘kitten’. It’s gross!” He glanced back at Otabek with a furious look in his eyes. “That’s how girls get sometimes, and I hate it! They think ‘no’ means ‘yes’, and ‘fuck off’ means I’m just playing hard to get. _It’s hell!_ ...but you probably already know that.”

Otabek shook his head minutely. His brows furrowed in a silent question that, it seemed, wouldn’t get answered, as Yuri huffed and slumped where he sat, looking completely done with the entire situation.

“Whatever. You’re fucking clueless. Not my problem.”

Yuri shoved himself to his feet and turned his back on Otabek as he started to leave.

“Well, anyway.” He paused for a moment to throw another smirk back at Otabek, and his next words were loaded with a snide sarcasm that only he could pull off while still seeming friendly. “Thanks for everything, Otabek. Not like I needed it. But nice job anyway.”

Then the smirk dropped and he was leaving. Something leapt in Otabek’s chest at the sight of Yuri walking away. _Wait. Not yet. Come back. Stay. Please._ He suddenly found his voice again and took a few steps after Yuri.

“Wait…”

Yuri groaned and turned around.

“What the hell is it now?”

“...can I give you a ride?” he offered gently. His expression and words were as even and untelling as ever. He gestured to Makkachin, but the pegasus had taken to looking very sorry for himself and staring at his rider with big, sad puppy-dog eyes. Didn’t Otabek still love him? Didn’t he deserve affection? Or did he do something wrong?

“Somehow I get the feeling _he_ wouldn’t be too happy with that.” Yuri raised an eyebrow and jerked a thumb at Makka.

“Who, Makkachin?” Otabek asked. The ghost of a smile drifted across his lips. “No, I’m sure he’d be alright with–”

“Your pony looks like a kicked puppy right now. Stop worrying about me and cheer him the fuck up before he starts crying.”

It was then that Otabek finally noticed how downhearted his companion looked. It was with a gentle hand that he reach out to rub along the side of Makkachin’s neck, and the way the pegasus immediately perked up and leaned into the minor affection brought a genuine smile to Otabek’s face.

“And seriously, don’t bother worrying about me,” Yuri scowled and folded his arms over his chest. His tone turned sharp with a touch of teasing. “I’ll be fine. I’m a big, tough guy...I can tie my own sandals and everything. I could have handled those fangirl hags without your help, you know.”

 

“I’m sure,” Otabek mused. He had known Yuri for a very short time, but he could already tell the other boy had a fire in him. He was a fighter, a strong-willed man with the eyes of a warrior. He had strength that Otabek hadn’t seen...but he wanted to. He wanted to know what kind of person was hiding behind those eyes.

“Whatever.” Yuri scoffed and glanced behind Otabek to the fuming satyr standing a good distance away. “Don’t you and your horse and that old goat have places to be?” The ‘old goat’ let out an angry sound that wasn’t entirely human. Yuri waved it away with one hand. “I’ll leave you to your Hero-ing. Bye, _Otabek_.” A brief pause. “Otabek…Beka? I’m calling you Beka. It’s shorter. Less annoying.” He scowled and straightened his tunic as he walked away, and Otabek could have sworn he heard the younger boy muttering while he left, “Not like it matters. We probably won’t see each other again anyway. Fucking hero-wannabe. Idiot Wonderboy. Good riddance.”

“Bye, Yuri.”

Without realizing it a small, almost affectionate smile slowly appeared on Otabek’s face. Yuri…

“He’s…really something…” he murmured, running his fingers idly through Makkachin’s mane. “Isn’t he, Yakov?”

“If by ‘something’ you mean a disrespectful brat who’s more trouble than he’s worth, then yes, he is!” Yakov snapped irritably. “Old goat? Peh!”

“He’s strong-spirited, that’s all,” Otabek offered. The comment only heightened Yakov’s irritation.

“Strong spirited my right hoof!” he spat. “I am only grateful that I didn’t have to deal with any rookie heroes like _him_ through the years. And you’re more steady-minded than most I’ve dealt with, so don’t you dare let that boy go turning your head. Understand?”

Otabek didn’t deign to reply with words, opting to offer only a nod in return. That, though, seemed enough for Yakov, who clambered onto Makkachin’s back without any preamble.

“Now, we have a job to do, remember?” he told Otabek firmly. “Thebes is still waiting.”

“Yeah...right.”

Otabek mounted the much-happier pegasus and kicked off into the air, but even though he tried to keep his mind on the upcoming task, he found his thoughts straying from their usual path. He found himself tuning out Yakov’s lecturing even more than usual. He found, despite his best efforts...that he couldn’t keep thoughts of Yuri from his mind. His confidence, his attitude, his natural grace…his eyes. The eyes of someone who had been hardened by life and had the strength to keep fighting. The eyes of someone who had a fire in him yet. And even as they approached Thebes from above and his focus shifted to what he would be doing, he found himself hoping that he would get the chance to see those eyes again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Be sure to give the original creator of this AU some love over on Tumblr...Lumorie's a sweetheart and deserves all the affection in the world!
> 
> http://lumorie.tumblr.com/


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